Dedicated to all the soldiers who die for us, as a world. - 2nd March 2006


Of war.

Barbed spirit killing dignity,

 

But in honour, It bellows.

 

It swallows the blood stained grass.

 

It causes provoked bombing,

 

An amulet of silver discovery;

 

Innocent, deadly.

 

The blood spits itself from it’s home,

 

Far away but still with its name.

 

Trenches open its jagged mouth,

 

Crimson gums, and diseased.

 

The grounding of a noble man;

 

Indeed he cuts his foot

 

On the coral like bone.

 

Sparks of spitfire like killer bees,

 

Piercing and stapling itself

 

To a choice of tender fabric.

 

To the cause of much agony,

 

With targeted focus;


It tortures.




Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 728 times
Written on 2006-03-02 at 19:13

Tags Dignity  War 

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Teala
Wonderful poem--a great tribute to all in the services.
2006-03-05